


Faint Echoes of Truth

by writingramblr



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Au where Paul is the biggest client, Dollhouse AU, F/M, and Caroline becomes his favorite doll, and he fascinates her, cliche title i know, non hero Paul, non victim Echo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 08:09:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1003016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingramblr/pseuds/writingramblr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paul Ballard is the Dollhouse's richest client, and he always hires a doll to accompany him over the weekend. When his usual doll is retired, for reasons unknown (to him,) he is sent a new girl, and she rocks his world.<br/>She is an angel, a devil, but in the end, she won't remember him after the weekend.<br/>Paul Ballard has fallen for Echo, but he doesn't have a secret desire to free her, only to be the answer to what she needs.<br/>What happens when her contract expires and her time with the Dollhouse is over?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Paul Ballard was a busy man. He rarely had time to catch up on the latest news during the workweek. During the weekend? He was busy on a whole different level.

Paul was more than a boring day trader, who practiced Muay Thai on the side to keep in shape.

He was the Dollhouses’ biggest client.

He requested an engagement every weekend.

It was his normal routine to wind down after a hectic 80 hours in the big city.

His normal doll, whose real name was not revealed to him, had a slim build, long wavy brown hair, and wide, innocent brown eyes.

She was his escape, and she was perfect.

Sometimes she was his girlfriend, or fiancée, and they had a long engagement, both had busy lives, and they liked to run away to his townhouse to flee the noisy city.

Other times he would meet her for dinner, and wine and dine her, pretending he’d never met her before.

The last time he saw her she had been an intern transferring from another department to his. Just for that Friday. She brought him his coffee and blushed, but accepted when he asked her to lunch.

The next week when Paul called Adelle Dewitt, the current director of the Dollhouse, something in her voice was different.

“I’m sorry Mr.Ballard, but your usual doll will no longer be available. We had to retire her. There was the small matter of her contract expiring. I’m sorry I couldn’t inform you sooner. The Dollhouse has also been under some scrutiny, nothing serious of course, but we’ll be going dark for a month, just to ride out this problem.”

Paul was speechless, and he had formed no reply before the line clicked off.

Scrutiny? The Dollhouse wasn’t truthfully public knowledge, except for those who could afford to know.

Surely he was loyal enough to hear the entire story?

Paul tried to call her back, but the line had gone dead, and was no longer in service, according the message that informed him.

His eyebrows rose up until they nearly disappeared into his untidy bangs.

“That was fast.”

His next idea for the weekend engagement had been an on call hairdresser, but he supposed he would have to stop by the barbershop in the morning instead.

He wasn’t lazy; he just liked the convenience of having his date also be a cosmetology student.

Well, he liked the thought of it.

***

 After two long months of silence, Paul received a very somber call from Adelle, who apologized profusely for the delay, and assured him he would be granted his next three engagements free of charge.

“We are calling other valued clients, and they will all be informed. However, I’ve decided to do something special for you. We have a new girl, and though she’s no Whiskey, that was your girl’s code name by the way. Now that she no longer works for us, I don’t see the harm in you knowing her name. Your new doll's name, at least for this coming weekend, is Michelle. I think you’ll like her. She will be at your favorite bar in the Village at seven p.m. Will that be convenient for you?”

Paul was trying to make a sound, but it took several tries to formulate a response.

“Yes, that will be fine. Thank you so much.”

“It’s not a problem. Thank you for your understanding Mr. Ballard. I trust you will have a pleasant weekend. Good day.”

This time when the end of the line went dead, Paul felt a sudden fluttering in his stomach, and he couldn’t keep a smile from his face the entire rest of the week.

Two months without a date, a kiss, or even a warm glance was not healthy.

Some would say relying on paid company wasn’t healthy. Paul couldn’t care less.


	2. Chapter 2

At approximately five minutes to seven, Paul pulled up in front of the Havarai bar, and stepped out of his car, not even casting the valet a glance as he took his keys.

Tonight was the night. He would meet Michelle. If Adelle was right, she would be everything Whiskey had been, and more.

He smoothed his hand down the front of his suit jacket, and hoped his tie looked alright. He had paced in his walk in closet for a ridiculous amount of time before selecting it.

It was nothing extraordinary, but the exact shade of blue that his eyes appeared. It was silly, but Whiskey had always said, no matter whom she was playing, that his eyes seemed to hold many rooms, each more intriguing than the rest.

He had laughed and said she was a bit too poetic for her own good.

Every time.

As Paul stepped inside, he noted the bar was rather quiet for the time, but then again, perhaps everyone else in the city was at a more exciting venue.

He took a seat and ordered his usual, Long Island Iced Tea, while he waited.

He wasn’t there alone very long.

From outside, since the bar was so calm, he could hear the roar of an engine, and he glanced around to see a black motorcycle pull up, and the rider dismounted, reached up to remove their helmet, but before he could see their face, someone stepped in front of his view, a large group of friends, who were loud, and seemed to be celebrating something, overtook the bar.

He sat patiently and waited once more.

He was in no hurry.

****

The click of heels distracted him from his checking his cellphone, for the millionth time. He looked over to see bright red shiny heels, toned legs, and his eyes moved up to find a black leather dress clad brunette.

Her eyes were entrancing, but not wide eyed innocence. They sparkled with mischief and hinted of things he suddenly ached to know.

Her lips spread in a smirk, and she gave him her own once over.

“Hi there sexy. You must be---?”

She cut off, as he reached over to shake her hand, which she ignored.

“Paul. You must be Michelle. I don’t know much about you, our friend didn’t say anything except that you loved motorcycles.”

Michelle rolled her eyes, and hopped up onto a barstool beside him, not even caring that the move made her dress ride up, exposing a few more inches of sunkissed skin.

“Sure. Like you couldn’t guess from my arrival. Don’t bullshit me Paul. Our friend only told you my name.”

Paul was taken aback, but he couldn’t say she didn’t entertain him.

Cocky, confident, and sexy. This was Michelle, and Paul wondered why he’d never met her before.


	3. Chapter 3

“Wow, this is your place?” Michelle exclaimed, the second they had walked inside his townhouse. Paul grinned, he loved the look on her face, and it was exactly the same look he’d seen a dozen times before.

But this time, it went from awed appreciation back to pure mischief in a blink of an eye.

“Maybe we should try to do it in every room. That should keep us busy today and tomorrow right?”

Michelle smirked at him, and reached out for his tie, which, he could happily say was obviously a success. Though he hadn’t planned on it being used as a mock leash so she could kiss him every time he started talking about work, he didn’t mind that development too much either.

Her lips tasted a bit like cranberries, most likely from the three vodka cranberries she had downed while he nursed his one drink.

She had quite the stamina, and could hold her alcohol better than most of his former college roommates.

“I like your thinking.” He managed to groan out between kisses.

She had scattered his outer clothing around the living room by the time they reached his bedroom, and once there, he decided he wanted to take a bit of the control back.

He hefted her up into his arms, and her legs wrapped around his waist automatically. This wasn’t her first rodeo.

“You are so strong. Most guys couldn’t hold me up long, much less concentrate on more than kissing.”

Paul squeezed her ass in reply before speaking,

“I’m not most guys, and you’re pretty light, at least you would be without all this leather. You have got to be hot under that.”

Michelle giggled,

“Oh I’m hot, but not from my dress.”

She reached back to undo the clasp and brushed her hair out of the way,

“Care to do the honors?”

“Naturally.”

Paul set her down gently on top of the bed, and she turned around, presenting him with such an enticing menu.

Should he kiss her neck and over her shoulders while slipping off her dress, or should he make her wait, and tease her over the material?

She answered for him, by wigging her ass in the air,

“C’mon Paul. Get a move on there.”

Paul never took orders from anyone but his Doll.

“Yes ma’am.”

His calloused hands stroked over her shoulders, and when he brushed a finger across a delicate collarbone she shivered, and he made a mental note to return there.

He felt the clasp before he saw it, as it was flush to the material, and pulled slowly on the zipper, careful to avoid pinching any of her soft skin.

The dress wasn’t very sticky, but once he had thrown it aside and moved his hands to feel around her chest, he felt the warmth of her skin nearly radiating underneath his hands.

“Oh, you were hot alright.”

Michelle simply hummed in reply, as his thumbs ghosted across her breasts, fingers stroking and teasing, before he took each one in hand, and squeezed gently.

“Enough teasing already. And take some clothing off. I can’t be the only one naked here.”

Paul loved that. He loved the fact she had forgone any underwear beneath that tempting dress, but she was right. He was still fully clothed, excepting his tie, jacket, and belt.

“Very well. Ask and ye shall receive.”

He stepped back, and started unbuttoning his shirt.

“Oh no you don’t. That’s my job mister.”

Michelle had flipped around and slapped his hands away before he knew what was happening. She had such a serious face as she concentrated on undoing his shirt that he had to fight from laughing. Her brows furrowed, and she chewed on her bottom lip, not relenting until the shirt was undone, and his own breath had become shaky.

“You finished?”

He managed to whisper, and she shook her head, her brown waves long enough to cover her breasts, but not hide them completely.

She looked very different undressed and focused on him than she had back in the bar. Perhaps the alcohol had worn off, or perhaps he was simply imagining it.

Her hands danced over his bare chest, and she paused when she reached his shoulder, where a faint white circle was, surrounded by light pink before fading into normal skin.

“What is this?”

Paul shrugged,

“Part of my past. I wasn’t always a boring day trader.”

Michelle cocked her eyebrow at him, finally ending her frown,

“Boring day trader? That’s hardly what I would classify you as. You do look much too handsome to be cooped up inside all day.”

Paul smiled, and got one in return,

“Thank you. Do you need help with the pants or should i?”

“Hell no!”

She yelped, some of her vivacious cockiness returning.

Paul raised his hands in surrender,

“Okay. All yours.”

Michelle nodded, her hands slipping down past his waist to grip his beltloops, and with a sudden movement, he was millimeters from her lips again,

“Yes, I am.”


	4. Chapter 4

When Paul Ballard showed up Monday morning, humming slightly, and with a bounce in his step, no one noticed, except his doorman at work.

“Morning Mister Ballard, have a good weekend?”

“Absolutely.”

***

The next Friday night was a new arrangement; Paul was to be playing covert operator to his doll’s criminal mastermind.

She would be attempting to break in to his high tech, very secure penthouse apartment, in reality an apartment that the Dollhouse would be renting for him. It was the first of his three complimentary engagements, so he thought, why not have a little fun?

 

He got home from work late, and though his eyes seemed to be dragging themselves shut with exhaustion, he pushed on. He would simply have to have a cup of black coffee with his tv dinner instead of his usual glass of merlot.

As Paul walked down the hallway, approaching his front door, he could hear a clicking noise, and a frustrated sigh, definitely female.

He rounded the bend to find a brunette woman, on her knees in front of his doorhandle, a black duffel bag containing various tools spread out beside her.

She was fumbling with what seemed to be a large drill, and was trying to outwit his touchpad hand scanner and keypad.

“God dammit.”

She whispered, before glancing around and spotting him, gun extended, and badge on full display on his belt.

“Just what do you think you’re doing miss?”

An arch of one of her perfectly shaped eyebrow managed to distract him from the look of fear playing around her eyes.

“I’m working here pal. You got a problem?”

Paul had to fight the urge to laugh, whilst keeping a stern face,

“Yeah. I live here. Who are you and why are you trying to break into my apartment?”

The look of fear grew, and before he knew it, she was on her feet and starting to swing a leg around to knock the gun from his hands.

He countered the blow with a sidestep, and let go of the gun to grab her leg.

He gripped her ankle tightly, not enough to severely hurt her, but he might end up leaving a bruise.

She grimaced, and he hesitated, his fingers loosened, and she took advantage of the split second to punch him in the shoulder.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed, and she smiled at him, almost flirting, if they hadn’t been fighting.

“Ooops. My bad.”

“You could at least tell me your name before you knock me out.”

She grinned, before throwing another punch at his side, just barely missing his kidneys. He wasn’t going to let her win that easily.

“And what exactly would that accomplish?”

“It might make me go a little easier on you.”

She frowned,

“You just said I would knock you out. Were you planning to throw this fight but if I tell you my name you won’t?”

Paul smiled,

“Not exactly. I would also let you inside. Whatever it is you’re looking for can’t be something I know about, or possess. You need me. You probably need something from my workplace.”

“How on earth did you figure that one out big boy?”

She was seconds from head butting him, when he reached over and unlocked the door, throwing it wide open.

“Go ahead.”

A frown creased her forehead, and he could see the truth in her eyes, she knew that he wasn’t setting her up.

“Thanks? By the way, the name’s Taffy. This is my first big job, otherwise you never would have caught me.”

Paul nodded,

“See, not so hard was it? I’m Paul, your mark I guess. Tell me, whatever it is that your employer is paying you, I could double it, _and_ you could have the satisfaction of working for the good guys.”

Taffy shrugged,

“I don’t know. There’s a lot more on the line than a big payoff here. From what I’ve been told, the information your bosses have could be of national importance. I’m talking about saving lives here.”

She stalked around his living room like the cat-burglar she was.

“Now, I’m sure your safe is super fancy, and probably needs your iris to be scanned before it’ll open right? All you FBI guys are the same, paranoid as those alien freaks out in the desert. You just get to wear suits and spy on people.”

Paul smiled,

“You certainly have a lot of strong opinions, not exactly based on any fact.”

Taffy laughed, tossing her hair back over her shoulder,

“Oh no, did I hit a nerve? Just tell me where it is, and I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

Paul shook his head,

“No. Imagine I wasn’t here. You’d be on your own. Use your criminal skills, find it yourself.”

“I’m not a criminal! I’m just a humble employee, like yourself. I just, didn’t have a key.”

“To _my_ apartment. I’m almost sorry about that.”

Taffy looked around at him, from where she was standing in front of his faux Monet painting.

“Is that how government employees flirt? No wonder you’re all divorced by age 40.”

Paul met her mocking gaze head on,

“You think I’m divorced? And I’m old? Ouch. The hits keep coming even when you haven’t got a hand on me.”

Taffy raised her eyebrows,

“You keep talking like that and I’ll be tempted to make a copy of your key…oh wait, I can’t, because it’s your whole frigging hand.”

Paul shrugged, and walked into the kitchen, ditching his coat on a barstool chair, and moving around to begin opening cabinets.

There was no way the Dollhouse wouldn’t have furnished some alcohol.


	5. Chapter 5

“Sorry to have inconvenienced you.”

“No you’re not.” She shouted back, clearly having arrived in his ‘bedroom.’

Before he could wrap a hand around the miraculously full bottle of rum he discovered he heard a shriek.

“What’s wrong?” He called out, panic flooding through his veins.

He ran at full speed until he reached the bedroom, and stopped short at the sight of Taffy lounging on the four poster bed, a sly smile creeping over her mouth,

“Oh my god. You should see your face. Relax. I just decided if I’m going to stick around, we might as well have some fun. Plus I found your spare set of handcuffs. A shame they aren’t pink and fluffy.”

Paul felt his muscles relax, even before she told him too, and then they began to tense up again at the mention of handcuffs. That wasn’t something he had outlined in the engagement, but he couldn’t say he disliked the developments.

“Are you sure? You can afford to waste time?”

Taffy nodded, and glanced towards the door,

“You can shut that. Besides, I know the safe is in here. Why would you keep it in such a cliché spot as the living room? You wouldn’t.”

He looked quickly above her, at the second faux painting he ‘owned,’ and she caught the look, just as scripted.

“Sure, why not?”

“So, I think you should try the handcuffs first.”

She pulled them from her leather jacket clad cleavage and twirled them around her index finger, and he felt his mouth go dry,

“Sure.” He managed to croak out.

***

Two successful scenarios later, and Paul was exhausted, beyond almost all thought. He did remember faintly that he’d forgotten to get any coffee, but the sight of Taffy mischievously hovering above him, and the creative use of her tongue and hands had perked him up considerably.

“Alrighty, it’s time for me to get going.”

Paul blinked at her, and nodded,

“Of course. Can you help me out of these real quick?”

Taffy looked at him like he’d sprouted another appendage, not the fun kind.

“Absolutely not. I have to steal what I came here for. it wasn’t you sweetie, but you were quite fun.”

Paul sat up, straining dramatically against the cuffs, and frowned at her,

“You wouldn’t.”

“Watch me.” She bit back, and winked at him before slowly climbing over him to observe the painting above the headboard.

Paul huffed angrily, but internally relished the fact he wouldn’t have to lose contact with her skin while she worked to rob him blind.

She managed to straddle him, even as she began pulling out various tools and instruments from her bag, which he hadn’t even noticed she had brought onto the bed.

All it took was a simple cellphone picture of his eye, which he held still for. He knew he had to admit defeat eventually.

When she’d opened the safe, and gleefully rifled through the files that it contained, she giggled,

“Blue skies.”

Paul glanced at her,

“What’s that mean?”

Taffy smirked,

“It’s for me to know and you, well, you’ll never know. Thanks for the fun. I’ll be sure to give the key for those to your doorman. Have a good weekend.”

Paul was seconds away from falling asleep when he heard the door click shut.

He was smiling all the way to dreamland.

What Taffy hadn’t known was the cuffs were not real. He’d been pretending to be restrained just to humor her.


	6. Chapter 6

Before he knew it, Paul had blown through his three free engagements, and was going on two years of seeing the one he considered _his_ doll, Echo.

He’d cut back to only seeing her once a month, after Adelle had informed him she was much too popular to be his every weekend.

Another year slipped by him without seeming to make a ripple in the ocean of his routine.

When he got a phone call Thursday night, before his engagement involving being avid rock climbers and hikers was to begin on Friday, he was surprised, but not alarmed.

Until Adelle began speaking.

“I’m sorry Mister Ballard.”

Paul gripped his phone tightly,

“Paul. Don’t make me sound like a stranger. I think we know each other well enough by now Adelle.”

She sighed on the other end, the static sounding like a wave crashing on the shore of his subconscious.

“Yes, of course. You’re right. I’m sorry Paul, but the simple truth is her contract has expired. We have no hold on her any longer. I’d be happy to recommend Sierra. She’s not as new, but she’s quite popular.”

Paul squeezed his eyes shut, and shook his head, before recalling Adelle couldn’t see him.

“No. No thank you. I’ll no longer be requiring the Dollhouse’s services. Feel free to take me off your phone list.”

“I understand. Goodbye Mister Ballard. Thank you for your business.”

The line clicked dead before he could push the button.

Paul gripped the phone so hard the screen began to fracture, and he tossed it away as fast as he could, ignoring the clatter as it hit the tile.

“FUCK.”

He called in sick the next day to work, and took the weekend off, chartering a private flight to Vegas, where he gambled his hours away.

He returned home with twice what he’d left with, but still felt as empty as bank accounts of the men he’d beaten.

It was finally time for him to grow up. To go out into the world and meet a girl the old fashioned way.

Why did this terrify him so much?

***

 

 

 

He found himself at the Havari bar the next weekend. He was on his third rum and tonic when he thought he had finally snapped. He could almost see her face right in front of him. Her eyes had been the same color as sunlight through whiskey. Her hair had been the black coffee he craved after a long day at work.

Her skin had been sunkissed and tan, as if every other day was spent at the beach.

He knew every inch of that skin, which points to kiss, where to make her come undone.

He’d spent hours with her, he’d spent days with her.

Never had he known her longer than a week.

Never had he been able to ask her the one question that now haunted him, day and night, and night and day.

Was he going mad?

Or was he hallucinating?

“You okay?”

Paul Ballard blinked, sat up straight, and looked into the eyes of the woman he was in love with,

“Yes. Thank you.”

She was the bartender. She worked in the bar.

She hadn’t been the one serving him drinks all night had she? He had a better imagination than that.

“You don’t look okay mister.”

Paul blinked rapidly and shook his head,

“You’re right. It’s just, you look like someone I used to know.”

The woman cocked her head and smiled,

“That so? I’ve only been here a few minutes but already that’s the best pickup line I’ve heard from a total stranger. My boss tells me you’ve had a few drinks, maybe you’re just a little confused?”

Paul strained to focus on her voice, and her face, the voice was the same, only a note deeper.

“Boss?”

“Yeah. Hector’s the main guy, I’m just filling in for him so he could get off early and go home to surprise the wife. You know what day it is right?”

Paul shook his head,

“No. I don’t have the faintest.”

She smiled,

“It’s valentine’s day. now what I’m wondering is why such a handsome guy like you, in a monkey suit too, is doing in a place like this all alone?”

Paul smiled faintly,

“I’ve lost my girl. So I’m here, alone, drowning my sorrows.”

She nodded understandingly,

“Of course. Then would you mind if I bought you a drink? To cheer you up. I can do that you know. Working in a bar has its perks.”

She winked at him, and suddenly Paul was reminded of the wisecracking safecracker.

“What’s your name? So I know who to thank.”

She smiled again, this time sticking out her hand, and his gaze followed her arm all the way up to her shoulder and across where a white and black printed nametag sat,

“It’s Caroline. What’s your name Handsome?”

“Paul, Paul Ballard.”

“Nice to meet you. Now, what’s your poison?”

His mouth answered

“Rum,”

His heart replied ‘You.’

***


End file.
